like a friend
by frizzoli
Summary: Maura takes Jane to New York, where trouble finds them anyway. A run-in with some old friends yields a surprising discovery on Maura's part, and Jane rushes headlong into danger again. Grey's crossover but that category is an abyss, so, here. T for now. Maura/Jane, Callie/Arizona, previous Maura/Arizona.
1. like a friend

A/N: Hey guys! This is the first chapter in a multichap. And, yes, it's another one of those Grey's/R&I crossovers, but hopefully it won't bore you. I've tried not to read any other crossovers up until now (seeing as this is already finished and just waiting to be posted), so if there are any similarities it's not because I'm copying anything. I think most of us like to think about Maura/Arizona, right? So that's, you know, a fandom thing and not a me-copying-people thing. I wrote this for my best friend in the entire world. She's fantastic, kind, hilarious, and so _so_ **so** talented. You should check out her work- her ff account is 'evenmoreso' and her tumblr url is quirkentein. Really, do it. She's awesome. Finally, **this chapter's song is 'Like A Friend' by Pulp**.

.,.,.,.

Jane laughing wasn't exactly the reaction Maura had been hoping for when she thought up this idea.

Although, in retrospect, there really is no surprise about it. Jane laughs when made uncomfortable, and clearly Maura has accomplished that in this particular case. Perhaps she ought to have explained herself better beforehand. Either way, the damage is done. Jane laughs, brows drawing together, suspicion clearly written in the tick of her jaw and the tilt of her head.

"The twenty-second annual _Pride Conference_? Uh, Maur, is there something you need to tell me?"

Well.

There is also _that,_ but Maura is entirely unprepared to bring her sexuality into discussion here and now, so she purposely ignores the joke (not lying, since it was a question asked in jest) and moves to lean against Jane's desk more comfortably. "I know that when I asked you to come to New York with me for two weeks you weren't expecting this," she temporizes, "but it's just one night, and it's a very important night. I promise it'll be interesting, and if you behave we can get drinks afterward."

Well, that just sounds like a date. But, again, it's not lying if nobody directly addresses it, and that's exactly how Maura's been avoiding it for so long. Sometimes she thinks Jane knows there's an elephant in the room, nd sometimes she's just as convinced that the detective is blissfully ignorant of it. Either way, it remains unaddressed, and as much as this proposition has started to sound like a very serious date, they both know that it's not. She's just curious. Hasn't that always been the problem?

"Don't you have to be gay to go to one of these things?" Jane asks, taking the pamphlet out of Maura's hand and flipping it over to get a better look.

"Of course not. It's a pride conference, not a _gay_ pride conference. Everyone's welcome, whether they're straight, bisexual, gay, lesbian, transgender, genderqueer, asexual or pansexual."

"I don't even know what half of those things _are_. Why do you want to go?"

Ah. A loaded question. There are a lot of reasons Maura wants to go, not the least of which is the question of her attraction to Jane. As much as she'd like to avoid it, maybe being in a place surrounded by people who are _comfortable_ in their sexualities would help her. "It's the first year the Conference is open to the rest of the country," she offers, which is true. "It's a unique experience, and straight women are historically underrepresented. I also have a friend that's planning to attend who I worked with in Africa and haven't seen in a while."

At this Jane gives her a sharp look, and Maura knows what she's going to ask before she asks: "Ian?"

His name used to send a shudder down her spine. The memory of him used to make her so suddenly and cripplingly sad that it would take her days to recover. Maura braces herself for an onslaught of grief, but it never comes. She's solid. She's…surprisingly fine. "Of course not," she answers, as if it's an unreasonable question. "I don't think I've told you about her. I almost went into pediatrics, believe it or not." Very clearly Jane does _not_ believe her, judging by the surprised little laugh that escapes her before she can tamp it down. "But I knew that autopsies were more where my interests lay," Maura continues, "We were in Africa treating minor illnesses, stitching up wounds, setting casts, vaccinating…those sorts of things. It was a small volunteer organization."

"Is she gay?"  
"She's a lesbian, yes."

Maura doesn't mention their shared tent. She also doesn't mention the long, hot, sticky nights. There are things that she knows Jane doesn't want to know, and, conveniently, those are also the things Maura doesn't particularly feel like sharing. Something comes over Jane's face, and Maura struggles to read it in the seconds before the detective regains composure and tucks it safely away.

"Okay," she agrees, "I'll go. But only if I get a beer after."

.,.

They both elect to drive the way down to the city instead of fly. Jane claims that she wants to drive because flying would be overkill with New York only four hours away, but Maura has a suspicion that the real reason has to do with her deep-seated frugality. It's not as if Jane doesn't make money. She could certainly afford to fly to New York, and if she couldn't, Maura would have been more than happy to pay her way- but Jane takes pride in being a blue-collar worker from a blue-collar family, and Maura doesn't like to address that conflict. The last time they got into a mess like that it ended with one of her exes in jail for murder, and, besides, the drive from Boston to New York is beautiful in early fall.

She drives the first two hours, and then they stop for lunch at a grimy little food court. When they slide into a booth near the windows, Jane laughs quietly and looks around. "Boy," she jokes, weakly, "now you're _really_ slumming." Maura just gives her a look and decides that the off-brand lunch wrap kiosk is her best bet at avoiding too much grease.

Jane, of course, ends up with a burger, and they eat in comfortable silence. Maura can't help but marvel at this kind of relationship. She's never had a friend like this before, and to be so far from home with Jane is at once exhilarating and comforting.

"So," the detective says after a while, as a means of starting conversation, "tell me about this friend of yours."

"Her name is Arizona-"  
"Arizona? That's a _name_?"  
"-and she lives in Seattle, where she's the chief of pediatric surgery at Seattle Grace. She's married to an orthopedic surgeon. I think you'll like her- she's very sweet. You'll probably think her _goofy_," she grins, using the term Jane has more than once used to describe _her_, "but she's also a genius, and genuinely very warmhearted."

Jane nods, mostly absorbed in her food. Maura reaches over and grabs a fry, earning her a kick under the table, which she returns without hesitation.

"And her wife?"

Maura shrugs. "I was invited to their wedding, but I couldn't make it. I've only met her in passing. She seemed nice. Protective, maybe, a little overbearing." Jane visibly perks up but Maura continues without a second thought. "She definitely has an edge to her, but I'm sure she's wonderful." Only then does she realize that she's said too much. In a vain attempt to salvage her nonchalance she steals another fry and pretends like the conversation is over, but she's blushing slightly, and Jane, attuned as always to the way Maura works, pushes on. "Why would her wife have had an attitude with you? That doesn't make sense. It's not like you're threatening."

Maura sighs.

"Arizona and I…had a fling. When you spend day and night with someone, you know…" she's just digging herself into a deeper hole now, because she spends a good 85% of her life with Jane, "…and we shared a tent," because _they've_ never shared a _bed_, "and I was…curious." Just like she's curious about Jane.

She looks up from her food and catches the look on Jane's face, which, in another time and place, could easily have been hilarious. "You," the detective points, incredulous, "slept with a _woman_?"

Maura clears her throat, wishing desperately that this conversation could end immediately, but knowing that it's her fault she's in this mess. "I grew up in Europe, Jane. The mentality there is very…different. Many of my peers experimented at even younger ages than I did. There's nothing strange about it- in fact, it's quite healthy."

They go back to eating because Jane has nothing left to say, or so it seems, until Maura finishes her wrap. When Jane breaks the silence again, Maura almost spits out her drink.

"What was it like?"  
"W-What?"  
"I'm just _curious_."

Maura studies Jane's expression carefully and comes up with nothing. Does she know what she's implying? If she does, she's certainly not being coy about it, making deliberate and unwavering eye contact, leaning over the table. No, Jane _can't_ know. There's no way she could possibly understand what that sentence means to Maura, or things would already have been vastly different between them. "It was…very…_different_," Maura answers lamely.

"God different or weird different?"  
"More complicated. Um…softer. Are you driving next?"

Jane accepts the change of subject with a smug smile and a nod, replying "yeah, I'll drive the last few hours," and Maura is able to breathe freely for the first time in at least ten minutes.

.,.

New York is, as it has always seemed to Maura, beautiful. Brash, loud, busy…it's no wonder she likes Jane as much as she does, not when she considers the way she comes alive in a city like this. Boston seems quiet by comparison. Jane looks apprehensive, which is probably partly from the change in Maura's demeanor and partly because of the way everyone else in the city drives (like "they have sticks up their asses", she says). Their hotel is only a few blocks from Madison, which grants them easy access to the rest of the city, and Maura is suddenly overwhelmed with possibilities for the next fourteen days.

That is, until they get to their room, and there's only a Queen-sized bed waiting for them.

Maura starts to say that she'll go down to the concierge, but Jane just shrugs and tosses her suitcase onto the bed. "You better not steal the covers, that's all I'm gonna say."

Of course. They've shared a bed before, this isn't anything new. So why is Maura suddenly so nervous? Is it the memory of a younger summer, of Arizona, of taking a risk like she's never taken again? It must be, because Jane doesn't seem to feel it. "I won't," Maura promises with a vague smile. She sets up her suitcase on the other side of the room and peers out the window, where the avenue, teeming with activity, is in plain view, and just like that her excitement comes back full-force. "You know what we could do?" she asks, turning back to Jane.

"Nap?"  
"Are you kidding? We're in New York!"  
"I've never napped in New York."  
"We could walk down Madison and make our way to Central Park- it's a beautiful, long walk…"  
"…which is probably nicer after the sun sets. C'mon, Maura. I'm dying here."

Maura sighs again. Jane is right, actually. It's hot right now, and the city is just as beautiful- if not more so- by night. Not to mention, _she_ could use a nap, too, given that she couldn't even finish the Dunkin Donuts coffee they'd picked up this morning. Jane takes her lack of response as agreement and flops onto her stomach on the bed, shoes and all. "That's what I thought."

Maura toes off her shoes with a small, reluctant smile and follows suit. When she leans back against the pillows she sees that Jane is watching her with one eye cracked open, an amused little smile on her face.

"What?"

Jane closes her eye, her smile growing. "Nothing. It's just funny."  
"What is?"  
"The idea of you with a woman."

Maura frowns, folding her hands over her stomach. "Why is that funny?"

"It never even occurred to me."  
"Well, to be fair, it didn't occur to me, either, until it happened. I'm sure you'd have been curious, too."

"I told you I was. Curious, I mean."

Maura's breath hitches in her throat.

"Are you?"

Jane continues as if she has no idea of the weight this conversation is suddenly carrying. Maura feels sure that she doesn't. "Well, sure. Sometimes."

They're quiet after that. Jane's breathing evens out and Maura watches the rise and fall of her back, tries _not_ to wonder what her lips would feel like. Eventually, she drops off, too.

She even manages to steal the covers.


	2. lover's carvings

A/N: **This chapter's quoted song is "Lover's Carvings" by Bibio**. Also- I googled, and it looks like mallard ducks _sometimes_ mate for life. Let's pretend that 'sometimes' is 'usually'. This author's note will make sense by the end of the chapter, don't worry. And no, they don't spontaneously turn into ducks, as funny as that would be. Reviews are awesome!

.,.

_meaningful hidden words_

_suddenly appear, from the murk_

_maybe they're telling us_

_that the end_

_never was_

_never will_

.,.

They wake up after seven, groggy but well rested and really far too close together.

"I told you not to steal the goddamn covers," Jane grumbles, rubbing her eyes, and Maura can't help but laugh. "You kick," she replies, "and this time there's no Jo to blame it on." As always, Jane has a comeback at the ready: "If you spent every day chasing murderers you'd kick in your sleep, too." It's supposed to be funny, but Maura wonders what else has come of Jane's lifestyle: nightmares? panic attacks? The idea of Jane waking up alone, panicked, after dreaming of any of the monsters they've helped catch…she doesn't like it.

"I suppose I would."

.,.

The city is alive with activity, and Maura can see it begin to grow on Jane. After a late, lingering dinner they make their way to Central Park, only a few blocks away. It's a pleasant walk, especially once Maura figures out how to pass St. Patrick's Cathedral on the way into the southern end of the park. Jane's less interested in the Cathedral and more interested in the soggy potato knishes being sold on the corner, but they both agree that the Park is worth staying out so late and push on, Jane munching contentedly on her 'authentic' Jewish treat and Maura wondering how Jane never quite manages to be full.

and find themselves surrounded by lovers, young and old. It doesn't seem to faze Jane, who leans against a streetlight and watches people walk by with a look on her face that Maura has only seen after solving a long, arduous case. Contentment. "This is nice," the detective says. Maura joins her, hands safely in the pockets of her trench coat. "Isn't it? I knew you'd like the city. I love it here. It makes Boston look so…small, doesn't it?"

The brunette makes a non-committal noise and rests her head back against the pole behind her. Maura is immediately distracted by the line of Jane's jaw and the way the light cast by the streetlamp hits her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and the shape of her eyes. Jane tries so hard to hide her beauty, and Maura can't fathom why she would. It doesn't work, at any rate: everyone can see it. She may portray herself as unpolished, almost masculine (which is probably the only way she could hope to compete in her field), but she is undeniably feminine and utterly beautiful. Nothing she could ever say or do could completely hide that side of her. Maura wishes she'd let it shine a little brighter.

"What?"

She realizes that she's been staring too late to hide it from Jane and flushes, immediately looking away. "Nothing. That shade of lip gloss is nice on you."

She has just come perilously close to lying, but she's not entirely sure that's why her heart is racing. She catches sight of something rounding the corner that makes her smile, though, and she's only partly trying to divert Jane's attention when she points at the two ducks moving across the walking path together.

"Anas Platyrhynchos."  
"You _can_ just say mallard ducks, Darwin."  
"Darwin studied finches."  
"Oh, yeah? What species?"  
"Thraupidae."

Jane laughs and the sound carries across the park. There must be a slight breeze, because Maura shivers. They watch the ducks clamber over the curb and onto the rocks together. Occasionally one of them will get too far ahead and stop until the other catches up. "Do you think they feel any kind of companionship?" Maura wonders aloud, not expecting any answer and surprised by the one she gets. "I would think so. They're walking together in Central Park at midnight."

_Oh._

To be fair, she had said 'companionship', not love. But mallard ducks are known to mate for life, and it would have been dense of Jane not to realize what she meant. She glances over and realizes that Jane is blushing slightly, as if surprised by her own answer and just now realizing that _they_ are also walking together in Central Park at midnight.

That probably should be their cue to leave, but neither of them makes any move to go anywhere. They just fall silent again, and as Maura watches Jane out of the corner of her eye she wonders what's going through her head. After what's probably just a few minutes but feels like a few hours, they start to walk again. They make a slow loop to get back to their hotel, and they do it without speaking. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but it is a heavy one.

When they get back to the room, Jane calls the first shower, and while she's in, Maura digs the spare comforter out of the closet and leaves it folded on Jane's side of the bed. Maybe, if they're lucky, they'll stay on their sides this time. She's afraid that if the tension between them bumps up another notch they'll feel awkward around each other, and, given that the Pride Conference is tomorrow night, that's not something she wants to risk.

By the time Maura gets out of the shower, Jane is asleep.

The second comforter is nowhere to be found.

.,.

The morning brings with it a sense of absurdity about the night before. Maura is almost embarrassed by how seriously she took that walk in the park. Judging by Jane's typical morning attitude (let me sleep or wake me up with coffee), she's not alone. It all seems like a very uncomfortable dream now, and she's perfectly at ease with letting it stay that way.

They eat in their room because Maura stops at the Starbucks across the street to get Jane's espresso alarm clock and brings back something resembling breakfast. Jane seems more than satisfied with her marble pound cake, and even Maura can't complain about the croissant, as unreasonably priced as it is. About halfway through breakfast Jane looks up and asks the question that shapes the rest of their day: "What's the dress code for tonight?"

"It's casual black tie. A cocktail dress would work just fine. Why?"  
"I… didn't bring a dress."

Maura grins, half at their good luck and half at the look of abject horror that comes across Jane's face when she realizes the implications of her blunder. "Then I guess it's a good thing we're in one of the best shopping districts in the city, isn't it?" Jane's groan, muffled by the hands she drops her face into, suggests otherwise.

.,.

Maura drags Jane up and down Madison Avenue until they find a dress that Jane will consent to. As much as she complains about dressing up, Jane's taste, when it chooses to present itself, is very flattering. Where Maura tends to look for bright colors, bright patterns, and dresses that pull in at her waist, Jane is drawn to subtlety, to off-blues and grays and blacks, all of which bring out the color of her skin and eyes.

In a boutique off of the main avenue they find a simple v-necked dress whose color Maura can't place. It appears gray or teal, but the longer she looks at it the less she's sure. It has a faint sheen to it, a sheen that ripples slightly when Jane holds it up on its hanger, lips pursed. "Do you think this would work on me?" she asks, touching the hem. Maura takes the dress and holds it up to Jane, who takes the hint and holds the hanger herself so that Maura can step back and take a better look.

"I _think_ so," she answers eventually, still perplexed by the color (or lack thereof), unsure of her judgment. "I…I think so, yes. But you should try it on, just to be safe." Jane groans. "Fine. This is the last one I'm trying on. If it doesn't work, I'm going in slacks, and you'll just have to get over it."

They both know that Maura isn't going to let that happen, but, as it turns out, there's no need to worry at all.

The dress is perfect.

Its ambiguous shape is exactly right for Jane. It clings to her shoulders, dips low enough to expose her prominent collarbones, and accentuates curves that Maura never realized Jane had. It stops just above the knee, and, even barefoot, it makes Jane's legs look ridiculously long. Maura's staring again, and this time she's not even trying to be subtle about it.

"Wow."  
"That bad?"  
"No, no- just…wow, Jane. That looks fantastic."

A faint blush flowers in Jane's cheeks, as if she's embarrassed at the attention. "I don't know. It's a weird color," she mutters, and Maura decides to take matters into her own hands, because if they leave that boutique _without_ the dress she's pretty sure she's going to have stress-induced alopecia for at least a week. She takes Jane by the shoulders and turns her around to face the full-length mirror behind her.

Jane's mouth opens slightly, and Maura sees her eyes move up and down the dress before settling straight ahead. For a moment Maura doesn't realize what Jane could be looking at, and then she realizes that her hands are still on Jane's shoulders; that her head is poking up over one of them, that her eyes are still on the mirror. That her body is pressed against Jane's. That Jane isn't moving away or brushing her hands off like she has so many hundreds of times.

"See?" Maura says weakly, dropping her hands and stepping back, "it's perfect. You're getting it."

"The hard way?"

Trust Jane to be able to make joke out of this situation. Again Maura is struck with bewilderment, with doubt that Jane has any idea what this proximity does to her. "Only if you don't cooperate," she replies easily. She can play along. She's been doing it for three years now; it's second nature. And Jane slips so easily back into that space, into teasing and joking and taking absolutely nothing seriously, that Maura can't even think of turning things back around.


End file.
